


right in front of me

by noctiphany



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) RPF
Genre: In-Universe RPF, M/M, Rimming, Sexuality Crisis, bottom Vlamis, top Blackburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 12:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18604750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctiphany/pseuds/noctiphany
Summary: Tyler has control. He's not a fucking saint.





	right in front of me

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE ABOUT THE TAGS: sexuality crisis not a crisis so much as a revelation but they don't have a sexuality revelation/awakening tag? So yeah. It's all good stuff, nothing dramatic or hardcore or w/e, just thought I'd mention just in case.

Most of the time Michael is watching Tyler, but sometimes --

Sometimes, Tyler watches him. The way his eyes light up when he laughs. The way he holds himself, insecurity hidden under layers of bravado and jokes, generally at his own expense. The way he scratches this spot right under his chin when he’s nervous, like when they’re in an interview together and he doesn’t know how to answer the question and those big brown eyes dart over to Tyler’s, searching for his help.

But Michael is straight and Tyler has long outgrown his idiotic tendencies to fall for unavailable men, no matter how fucking adorable their curls are, but still, he thinks about it. It’s hard not to when he knows how soft Michael’s lips are, how they taste like mangoes from the chapstick he uses because he doesn’t want Tyler to have to kiss his dry lips. It’s hard not to think about it when he knows the sound Michael makes when someone licks into his mouth, the little gasp of a breath he lets out when teeth graze his bottom lip.

So yeah, he thinks about it. There’s no harm in thinking. He’s a big boy. He’s got a job to do and he knows Michael has never been with a man before, so it’s not like he’s going to do anything about it. He has more self-control than that. If his eyes linger on Michael’s ass a little too long every now and then, imagining what it would look like covered in his handprints and swallowing up his dick, well.

He’s got control. He’s not a fucking saint.

 

: : :

 

Tyler promised. Promised himself, promised his best friend and his sister and everyone else who knows How He Is. He promised he wasn’t going to go after the cute boy with the curls and the soft, fat lips and the smile that outshines the sun.

At the after-party, his lap full of drunken and giggly and very, very handsy Michael Vlamis, Tyler’s not sure how long he’s going to be able to keep that promise.

About fifteen minutes ago Michael had stumbled and drunkenly fallen right into Tyler’s lap and after trying to get up twice and failing, decided he was comfortable right where he was. It’s not the first time he’s made himself at home in Tyler’s lap, but it is the longest he’s stayed there. Currently, he and Jeanine are having the same argument they’ve had twenty-five times over his mother’s baklava recipe and it’s so adorable and familiar and Michael feels so much at home that he just relaxes and lets it be. They’re all friends here, almost more like family. Nothing has to be weird. Michael is just a tactile guy who’s secure in his masculinity and sexuality. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Everything is fine.

Until Jeanine gets up to go pee and get another drink and Tyler realizes his hand is on Michael’s thigh. He has no idea when he did it, but it sure is there, just laying across Michael’s leg, fingers wrapped around his upper thigh just a little, just enough to look possessive. The only reason he even noticed it is because Michael noticed it, his eyes going to the hand on his leg, then darting up to Tyler’s.

“Oops,” Tyler chuckles, trying to pretend like it was an accident, and takes his hand away immediately, but that look in Michael’s eye doesn’t fade and when he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, Tyler sort of forgets how to breathe.

Fuck straight boys. Fuck his stupid, stupid dick. Fuck everything. He’s so  _ not _ going to go through this again. He actually likes Michael. He likes this job, this show. He can’t afford for things to go shitty or for Michael to freak out and want to leave. God, he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to lose him.

Goddammit. He’s already gone.

“Well, shit,” Tyler says under his breath, but loud enough for Michael to hear apparently.

“Right?” He says, cracking a half smile of his own, and Tyler lets every single pretense of Not Doing This fly right out the damn window. 

 

: : :

 

About four minutes later, Michael is all over him. Hands, mouth, teeth. It’s dark in the parking lot, thank god, and Tyler’s windows are tinted, but still. This isn’t where he wants this to go down. He needs a lot more room for what he plans on doing to Michael. 

“Fuck,” Michael swears when Tyler pulls away, gropes at his face and tries to pull him back to him. “C’mon, Tyler,  _ c’mon, want you _ \--”

“Shh,” Tyler grins, pressing two of his fingers to Michael’s lips. “I know. I’m just a few blocks away. Now, be a good boy and buckle up.”

“Ha ha ha, fuck you,” Michael snaps, flipping him off with both fingers, but Tyler notices he buckles his seatbelt anyway.

 

: : :

 

“C’mon, c’mon,” Michael urges again once they finally get inside Tyler’s apartment. Michael is akin to an impatient toddler on his best days, but Tyler hadn’t expected this kind of eagerness. He definitely hadn’t expected Michael to be the one trying to tear his clothes off and groping at his body like he’s been dying to touch him for months. 

“Vlamis,” Tyler says, taking Michael’s face between his hands and looking him in the eye, steadying them both. “Michael. Slow down. I’m right here.”

Michael nods, taking a deep breath. “Yeah?”

Tyler nods back, smiling at him. There’s just something about looking at that face that makes him smile. “Yeah.”

“Kay,” Michael says, cupping Tyler’s jaw with his right hand and stroking his jaw with his thumb. “Now that we’re here...what are you gonna do with me?”

“Well,” Tyler says, taking Michael’s hand in his, dragging it to his mouth until he can flick his tongue out over Michael’s fingertips. “There is something I’ve been wanting to do for a long, long time.”

He sucks Michael’s fingertips into his mouth and swirls his tongue all around them, watching as Michael swallows thickly and stares at him, wide-eyed and breathless.

“Please,” he rasps out and Tyler has never heard a more beautiful sound in his life.

 

: : : 

 

“Has anyone ever --?” Tyler asks, even though he’s pretty sure of the answer. He asks partly to know what Michael’s comfort level is going to be, but mostly because there’s a dark part deep inside of him that wants to be the first one, the  _ only _ one to make Michael feel like this. He wants to take Michael apart with his tongue, his fingers, his cock. He wants to  _ ruin _ him for anyone else. 

Judging by the sound Michael makes at the first, tiny flick of Tyler’s tongue over his hole, he’s already halfway there.

 

: : : 

 

Tyler fucking loves rimming people. He likes receiving it too, but he thinks he prefers this better. Someone writhing and squirming and moaning, completely at his mercy. And god, Michael sounds fucking gorgeous like this. He sounds like a goddamn  _ angel _ every time he screams for Tyler, every time he whines his name, like he just can’t take anymore. Tyler knows that feeling, the one where you feel like you’re teetering over the edge with every single touch, feeling like you’re going to go insane with it. He loves that feeling, but he likes being the cause of it even more. 

“Fuck, fuck,  _ c’mon _ , just --” Michael groans, an angry red bite mark on the inside of his arm where he tried to keep himself quiet earlier.

“Yeah?” Tyler asks, leaning back and dragging the back of his hand over his mouth, playing with Michael’s loose, slick hole with his other hand, pushing two fingers in, then slowly pulling them out, watching how well Michael’s takes them. “Just what, baby?”

“Oh  _ fuck, _ ” Michael whimpers when Tyler pushes his fingers inside of him and crooks them just so, sending sparks of electricity straight to Michael’s dick. “Fuck me, Tyler, Jesus Christ. You want me to beg?”

“I love how you say that,” Tyler says, grinning as he flips Michael over onto his back. “Like you haven’t been doing exactly that for the past half hour.”

Michael flips him off, but it lacks it’s usual heat. He already looks so fucked out it looks like Tyler’s already gone two rounds with him. He can’t wait to see what he looks like when they’re done.

“But now that you mention it,” Tyler says, smiling down at him sweetly as he rolls a condom onto his dick, then slicks it up, takes it in his hand and rubs just the head of it over Michael’s hole. “Yeah, I think I would like that.”

Michael shoots him an incredulous stare, but he has his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, trying not to whine as Tyler teases him. Still, when Tyler leans over him and licks into Michael’s mouth, a soft little moan falls from his lips.

“Tell me,” Tyler pulls back an inch or two so he can see Michael’s eyes, stroke Michael’s gorgeous cheekbones with his thumb. And this, this is what Tyler loves the most about Michael. They barely ever have to communicate in words or full sentences. Michael always just knows. In the back of his mind Tyler knows it’s unusual to have a connection like that with someone you’ve barely known a year, but he tries not to think about that too much.

“You need me to tell you?” Michael asks, reaching up to slide his fingers into Tyler’s hair. “How much I want you? How much you confuse the shit out of me? How every night for the past six months I go home and finger myself wishing it was you?”

“God  --”

“You want me to beg for your cock, Tyler? I will. I’ve got no shame when it comes to you, man. I don’t care what this is or if it’s a terrible idea or what it means, I just want you so fucking bad I can’t stand it. I want you inside of me, Tyler. I want --  _ fuck--” _

Michael pushes inside of him; slow, but steady. He can’t wait another second. He wants this, Michael wants this. They’re both tired of waiting. They both need this.

“ _ Fuck,  _ you feel so good,” Tyler groans, pushing Michael’s thighs back and slowly, slowly pushing his cock in until he bottoms out. “God, baby, you’re so tight.”

“Don’t --” Michael chokes out, shaking his head against the pillow.

“Don’t talk to you?” Tyler frowns. “Why? What’s the --”

“Don’t call me that,” Michael says, embarrassed, throwing his arm over his eyes to cover them. “Not unless you want me to come, like, now.”

Tyler just grins and rocks his hips against Michael’s, drawing a filthy groan from his mouth. “You’re so fucking cute, Vlamis,” he says, getting a good grip on Michael’s thighs and starting a good, steady pace.

For a while, neither of them say anything. The only sound in the room is their combined heavy breathing, Tyler’s grunts, and Michael’s curses, whimpers, and moans. Sometimes, on a particularly hard and well-aimed thrust, Tyler’s name falls from Michael’s lips and he reaches out for him like a lifeline, like he’s shocked it can feel this good. Tyler can tell when he’s getting close because Michael starts saying his name more frequently, starts clawing and grasping at his shoulders like he doesn’t know how to handle everything that he’s feeling.

Tyler kind of relates.

“Touch yourself,” he tells Michael. “I’m close. I want you to come with me.”

“I’m -- fuck -- really close too,” Michael says, blowing a stray couple of curls out of his face as he reaches down to wrap his hand around his dick.

“Good,” Tyler says, looking down to watch his cock disappear inside of Michael again and again. “God, look at you. You take me so good, baby.”

“D-don’t --”

“First cock you’ve ever had in you and you take it so, so good,” Tyler ignores him, just keeps talking filth as he pounds Michael’s ass, chasing that release for both of them. “Like you were fucking made for me.”

“ _ Shit.  _ Tyler, I’m --- harder, fuck, harder --”

Tyler does. He gives Michael whatever he needs, always. It just so happens that he needs this too. He slams into Michael so hard and so fast that their sweat-slick skin slaps together, the filthy noise mingling with their combined panting and grunting and the squeaking of the bed springs.

“That’s it, baby,” Tyler says, bending Michael nearly in half, leaning over him to press their foreheads together. “Just like that, come on my cock, sweetheart, wanna feel you all around me, want...oh god, oh  _ fuck. Michael --” _

They come, almost, at the same time, Michael burying his scream into Tyler’s chest. Michael comes first, tightening and spasming around Tyler’s cock, which is what pulls Tyler over the edge and has him mindlessly fucking into that hot, tight vice, watching Michael’s angelic face the entire time he fucks him through it, until Michael closes his fingers around Tyler’s wrist and shakes his head, telling him he can’t take anymore.

Before he pulls out, Tyler leans over and kisses him again. Slow and orgasm drunk, so soft that Tyler doesn’t know what to do with it. After Michael pushes him back so he can breathe, Tyler gets rid of the condom and brings Michael a wet towel to wipe himself down with. When he’s clean, Michael flops over and lays his head on Tyler’s stomach. They’re both ridiculously sticky with sweat and lube and come, but for once, Tyler truly doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to move. Not now, maybe not ever.

Tyler isn’t much of a cuddler, or a talker, after sex. But he doubts there’s a time when Michael Vlamis ever stops talking. He probably even mumbles nonsense in his sleep. He doesn’t mind this, though, Michael’s arm draped over his legs, his cheek pressed to his stomach. He’s humming something too, but Tyler can’t make out what.

“That was,” Michael says eventually, then laughs. “Fuck. I cannot be this much of a cliche?”

Tyler chuckles, but keeps rubbing Michael’s shoulders. “Finish your sentence.”

Michael says. “That was totally the best sex I’ve ever had. Don’t be a dick about it, but like. Jesus christ, dude.”

Tyler smiles to himself and tries not to laugh, for Michael. He knows, internally, he’s probably having some kind of crisis right now. Or maybe not. It’s Michael Vlamis. He can unpredictable at the best of times.

“Honestly,” Tyler finds himself saying while he plays with Michael’s hair. “It was some of the best sex I’ve had in a long time too.”

Michael sits up halfway and tilts his head toward him, squinting like he isn’t sure if Tyler’s fucking with him or not. Once he finds his answer in Tyler’s eyes, he starts chewing on his bottom lip, then shifts around until he can throw one leg over Tyler’s waist and straddle him. “So. What do you think that means?”

Michael brings Tyler’s face down to his to kiss him, then flips the over and pins Michael beneath him on the bed.

“I think,” he says, peppering kisses along Michael’s jaw and down his throat, “it means we should keep doing it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
